The three-year-old choir children twirled and giggled as they were led in a knot of single-file to the carpeted steps at the front of the church. Perfect Shirley Temple curls were accentuated with red and green ribbon. Sprays of plastic berries and twinkling tinsel erupted from shimmering outfits.
And, of course, there were the obligatory boys.
My favorite inappropriate Christmas song. I clogged up a client's time on Thursday describing my encounter with Justin Timberlake and Jessica Biel and her parents at a random restaurant in Colorado, where the only possible fan-related thing I could've said was............
Music informs more of this blog than I let on. When poor MTM met me, my biggest collection of music was of the Christmas variety: crooners, classical, swing, alternative. You name it; I have it.
For the balance of the month of December, I'm going to chronicle Christmas songs in my collection. Yeah, I've done it before.
Some will be repeats, and others will be brand new.
And, there's something in it for YOU.
Last week, I ran a contest to see if anyone could guess what crazy thing Dad almost bought. A crisp two dollar bill, straight from Dad's wallet, was on offer for the winner.
Your answers were very entertaining, Dear Readers. You really showed me just how much some of you pay attention. Or love reading about my dad. Or something.
Everyone has a dream. Even the most cynical of people dream. Deep down in the cavern of the soul, beyond the place where they thought dreams went to die, people still nurture their dreams.
My friend Kate Shrewsday has a dream. For as long as I've known her, she's written a fantabulous daily blog. I've met her and Phil for drinks in London. I correspond with her by email whenever I can without being a pest.